April is perfect hiking weather in Limpopo; the wind has died down, rain has all but disappeared and the sun still dances on the mountain tops. As we started the hike up Blouberg in mist and a slight chill, we did wonder though if we’d got the weather right this time. Luckily, the long weekend of the 25th to the 27th April was indeed a fine time for adventuring on an iconic African mountain.
Eight of us, including two very happy dogs, set off from the Glade Village after the customary meet and greet with Isaak. The village was bustling with the sounds of funeral drums for the celebration of the extraordinary life of Mma Wilson who had lived in these tranquil hills for a hundred years. While being cheered by numerous well-wishers, we walked up through bushveld, rocky yellowwood forests and a wonderland of grasses and soggy sedges. The views kept calling out to us, and we stopped often to enjoy it, while the mist kept pace, lifting obligingly as we gained elevation.
The Blouberg Mountain is an inselberg rising about 1 000 m from its foothills in the Glade. We hiked up to a plateau halfway to the summit, and although the distance is only about 7 km, the path is steep and involves some fun clambering between ancient yellowwoods, and over rocks slippery with Scadoxis and recent rain. This season, the rain had been incessant, flooding even the sandy stretches of Senwabarwana’s outskirts, the closest town to Blouberg Mountain. On our way up, the sound of rivers was ubiquitous; waterfalls fell from rocks that are usually bone dry and streams chortled through every hollow available. We were entranced!
Our traditional campsite nestles enticingly between Canthium trees and the boulders of a generally dry streambed. However, after experiencing some sudden floods on previous trips, we decided to pitch our tents on the grassy plain above the river. This time, even the grassy plain was squelchy, and we had to squeeze our tents into interesting spaces to find a dry bed. The relocation was well worth it: instead of a night sky obscured by trees and cliffs, we were treated to a magnificent display of moonlight, satellites, meteors and milky stars that left us with crooked necks but happy hearts.
Sunday was spent pootling around pools and crags and the odd overhang. While Marcel, Steph, Candice, the dogs and I went for a hike up towards the cave, while looking for climbing routes, Vince and Tadhg explored interesting gullies and woody hollows for lizards and snakes. Sky-clean, and water-bright, the day expanded generously into one beautiful finding after another. Aloe hahnii, with their dark leaves and intense pink flowers captivated us, as did the sapphire splashes of Coleus hereroensis hiding in the deep shade, and the commodore butterflies, already sporting their stunning midnight-blue winter garb. In one meadow we bumped into bug after giant bug clutching grass stems and hiding from us amidst clouds of almond smelling cyanide. These giant twig wilters were not doing what the books say, and had abandoned their bushwillow trees and descended into the grass and Passerina field below the crags for some kind of insect inspired gathering. The flat lizards also did not disappoint and unlike the butterflies, were still gaudily dressed for summer in attention-grabbing hues of orange and blue.
That night our modest campfire shot sparks into a sky already loaded with magic. We retired to bed wondering why on earth our ancestors had abandoned Eden to follow their clever brains and dexterous hands into 9 to 5 hour jobs and virtual experiences, when real life enchantment waited right on their doorsteps.
Rocked to sleep by the rhythm of the incessant rivers, we woke to sun and the sweet smell of nature at her best: damp earth, crushed Helichrysum and early morning coffee! With still so much to see and do, we reluctantly packed up, after a last swim and a farewell gaze over the waterfall to the Makgabeng formations in the distance. Birdsong accompanied our footsteps all the way back and odd things popped up underfoot to keep us intrigued: Brain shaped puffballs, tiny, tragic skulls, and interesting long-fingered asparagus all grabbed our attention. As we descended, monkeys, cows, and a final, flurry of piglets, kept pooches, Murdoch and Jinx excited until the end.
Back at the cars Isaak and Alex greeted us warmly and wished us on our way. We reluctantly loaded gear and dogs into cars, and left the Blouberg, with memories spinning into legends, and legends into dreams.
Thank you to Marcel, Steph, Candice, Vince, Tadhg, Murdoch and Jinx, and especially to the people of Blouberg, who are the custodians and genial gatekeepers of this remarkable mountain.
Written by: Bronwyn Egan
